Once, I was immortal.
Once, I daily leaped mighty chasms
And tall mountains.
I dug rivers and lakes.
Civilizations were born
And died
By my hands.
I was brother to deer and rabbits
(though the kind of brother you might avoid at all costs).
I was the mighty hunter of the forest,
A young demi-god in blue jeans,
Sweeping through the world,
Bending it to my whim,
Afraid of nothing
(except chickens and dogs and snakes).
Cloud catcher,
Sun dancer,
Explorer of a thousand stars.
I was brought low by a spell
(or as I learned to spell, six of one…it’s all about words).
First word:
Don’t
Then:
Can’t.
Finally my divinity was stripped away
On the day
I learned
To spell
Impossible.